Day 8
It's hard to believe that Oliver was born only 8 days ago. And it's also hard to believe it has been a whole 8 days since he was born. I'm wandering around in that sleep-deprived/distorted state that can only come with either demand breastfeeding or prolonged on-call (1:1) as a surgeon at a busy metropolitan hospital. I am managing to get rest when Oliver does, mostly, although this afternoon is the first time I have felt awake enough to catch up on some correspondance and stuff. I'm still working up to posting my hospital log, so don't run away screaming just yet: much more to come.
I am only now realising what I missed out on with Patrick's early days: with Oliver I have made that instant bond- the equating the baby that was within me to the baby in my arms. Only rarely do I miss the full belly feeling of pregnancy (mostly in the early morning when he *still* won't stop feeding). With Patrick I would have quite freely have given away my newborn- with Oliver i am already a protective mama bear. I am marvelling at every inch of his fuzzy head and warm, soft body. Even his poo is marvellous (just not at 4 am- for the fifth time that night). I had dreaded the first 6 months of Oliver's life, expecting it to be as bad as Patrick's seemed, but not so. Oh blessed relief!
At the same time I really miss my big boy- miss being able to spend time with him unfettered. I also feel awful knowing that all this love I feel for Oliver I didn't feel for Patrick, but am comforted by the fact that that wasn't at all my choice- it was the PND that robbed me of it, and, oh boy, do I ever wish I had been able to choose to NOT have PND! I wish that I could have Patrick's time as a newborn over to compensate, but as that's not possible, I'll concentrate on having the best time I can with Oliver to honour its existence now.
I did get the baby blues pretty bad a few days ago. I forced them to let me stay in hospital another day- funking private hospitals! I also let fly with some choice expletives at our cranky old fart neighbor two doors down who decided to leaf blow our garden as I was trying to get the only sleep I had in 24 hours. And he really is a cranky old fart- he complains that he has to clean up the leaves from our tree every morning from his driveway, and he's 73, and he cleans up half a bucket of our leaves every day, because, like, it's autumn, and, like, leaves fall off trees, yeah? Actually, dude, you choose to leaf blow every morning- there's no law about it. To really illustrate this old fart's eccentricities, his front and rear lawns are so meticulously trimmed, he has my mother convinced it's astroturf. And our other neighbors (the nice ones next door) told me they saw him- get this- vacuuming his front lawn yesterday. That's right, ANZAC day. He's out there at the crack of dawn dustbustering his lawn. Crank.
Anyway, the small one is awake, and my boobies are full. Better go get milked. More fotos coming as soon as I get my act together.
I am only now realising what I missed out on with Patrick's early days: with Oliver I have made that instant bond- the equating the baby that was within me to the baby in my arms. Only rarely do I miss the full belly feeling of pregnancy (mostly in the early morning when he *still* won't stop feeding). With Patrick I would have quite freely have given away my newborn- with Oliver i am already a protective mama bear. I am marvelling at every inch of his fuzzy head and warm, soft body. Even his poo is marvellous (just not at 4 am- for the fifth time that night). I had dreaded the first 6 months of Oliver's life, expecting it to be as bad as Patrick's seemed, but not so. Oh blessed relief!
At the same time I really miss my big boy- miss being able to spend time with him unfettered. I also feel awful knowing that all this love I feel for Oliver I didn't feel for Patrick, but am comforted by the fact that that wasn't at all my choice- it was the PND that robbed me of it, and, oh boy, do I ever wish I had been able to choose to NOT have PND! I wish that I could have Patrick's time as a newborn over to compensate, but as that's not possible, I'll concentrate on having the best time I can with Oliver to honour its existence now.
I did get the baby blues pretty bad a few days ago. I forced them to let me stay in hospital another day- funking private hospitals! I also let fly with some choice expletives at our cranky old fart neighbor two doors down who decided to leaf blow our garden as I was trying to get the only sleep I had in 24 hours. And he really is a cranky old fart- he complains that he has to clean up the leaves from our tree every morning from his driveway, and he's 73, and he cleans up half a bucket of our leaves every day, because, like, it's autumn, and, like, leaves fall off trees, yeah? Actually, dude, you choose to leaf blow every morning- there's no law about it. To really illustrate this old fart's eccentricities, his front and rear lawns are so meticulously trimmed, he has my mother convinced it's astroturf. And our other neighbors (the nice ones next door) told me they saw him- get this- vacuuming his front lawn yesterday. That's right, ANZAC day. He's out there at the crack of dawn dustbustering his lawn. Crank.
Anyway, the small one is awake, and my boobies are full. Better go get milked. More fotos coming as soon as I get my act together.
posted by jen at 9:58 PM
2 Comments:
wow - it all sounds like it's going as well as can be expected - neighbours and endless breastfeeding aside. so happy for the full experience you're having.
I'm so happy that the PND isn't as bad this time and that you're able to truly enjoy this fast-moving newborn time.
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